


recall the words i gave to you

by lookoutlovers



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Things just aren't going as planned, but like 6 years on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-02 21:39:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookoutlovers/pseuds/lookoutlovers
Summary: five times eliott’s plan to propose to lucas goes completely wrong, and one time it’s perfect.





	recall the words i gave to you

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys this is literally just an excuse for me to gush about how much i adore lucas lallemant with an eliott pov (it’s a lot) pls enjoy.
> 
> title is from everything all at once by SYML
> 
> also!!! you can read this fic [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8938354) in russian!! 🧡✨

Eliott has loved an inconceivable amount of things in his life — the crackling of his record player as his favourite vinyl revolves in delicate motions, bringing the soft melodies to life and giving them an edge of rawness. His first ever puppy, _Bambi,_ a defiant little thing. How he has found a sense of solace in his art. The feeling of self-fulfillment when he received his first ever commission request and was able to turn his passion into a full time job; where he could use his creativity to invoke all kinds of emotions in others, inspiring them with his work.

But none of these things compare to the love Eliott has found in Lucas.

Lucas brings out a colourfulness in Eliott that ignites every dark corner of his life. Lucas is this electric force, demanding Eliott’s attention most minutes of the day. He’s consuming that way — in a way that’s easy to get lost in. He’s full of light, like the sun that breaks through the clouds on a stormy day. A bit like hope.

Falling in love with him has been the easiest and most wonderful thing Eliott has ever done.

And Lucas also exudes an immense amount of love. He is full of it, indefinitely. His heart almost bursts at the seams with how much he cares for even the smallest of things. And, see, Eliott feels this in many ways, some of them more subtle than others, because Lucas is just like that. Like how he continuously insists on bringing Eliott tea in bed every morning without fail. But he also shows it in ways more profuse, like in all of those countless hours that he spent researching the best therapists available in Paris — all because the one Eliott had been seeing since he was sixteen moved away to Australia and the adjustment had been too much.

Lucas is always there. Through every high and low, every bad day, every good one. Just like he had said all those years ago when Eliott had voiced his fears about the future, the niggling at the back of his mind that was telling him it could never work. _Lucas won’t be able to deal with it, you’re too complicated, it won’t last._

Lucas had shut those thoughts down immediately. _So we’ll see_ , he had said, _we’ll take things minute by minute._

And they had taken things minute by minute. When thoughts are loud, Eliott knows Lucas will be there. Sometimes asking for that — for help, _admitting_ that he needs it — is sort of difficult. But Lucas never pushes or pries. He’s always just right there, waiting, ready. And those are just the tough days. But the level of adoration Elliott feels for Lucas in these moments is what makes the good days all the more exquisite.

Those days, for the most part, are bliss. Lucas likes to sleepily grumble sardonic commentary when Eliott wakes him up too early. His eyes light up when Eliott tells him he loves him. He lets Eliott draw him when they have nothing to do and light slants over his face in just the right way. He sings, sometimes, too, loud and obnoxious in the shower when he thinks nobody can hear. (Although Eliott can, when he’s in the kitchen making sure their toast doesn’t burn, he gets distracted by it, like he does most of the time with things that concern Lucas. Distracted until the toast is inedible and Lucas stands pouting in the doorway because he warned Eliott about this, about using the kitchen unattended. It’s only fair.)

It’s these things, simple yet significant things, that have led Eliott to here. To a love so profound it aches, to a realisation so intense it stampedes. _I’m going to marry this boy._ It’s first thought on a Monday — _I’d rather be annoyed with you than not have you at all, so we’ll see, we’ll take things minute by minute —_ it’s distant like a feather as it drifts in the wind, with no clear apparent route, yet purposeful, still. He’s only eighteen, but he knows this, he does. So he files the thought away, and he keeps it safe because there is nobody else, no one Eliott has ever felt so enamoured by as this boy. He’ll love him until his lungs give in.

  
  
  


i.

The gentle rustling of autumnal leaves shedding from their boughs and fluttering to the damp ground as Eliott walks are a personification of his current mood. Some fall gracefully like the buzzing of hope, while others tumble down with a harsher gust, alluding to his severe nerves. There is a band of silver shoved deep into the pocket of his denim jacket, chosen a few weeks ago with the help of Yann. Eliott twirls it between his fingers, there is a storm erupting within his chest, winds swirling and spiralling between the gaps of his rib cage.

Lucas is standing not too far from the restaurant entrance when Eliott arrives, leant up against a nearby wall and looking down at his phone. His head lifts as Eliott approaches, his face lighting up instantly in the brightest of smiles. Suddenly, despite the absence of sun, Eliott feels warm all over.

“Hey,” Eliott smiles when he’s right in Lucas’ space, cupping his face and leaning in for a lingering kiss. Lucas visibly melts into it, giggling as Eliott peppers quick pecks to his lips instead of pulling away. (Once is merely impossible when Lucas is this alluring, this _stunning_. Eliott is always wanting more, craves it like a drug.)

“I missed you today,” Eliott mumbles between kisses. Most days, but not all, go like this — when a gallery takes on Eliott’s work and mornings start far too early — often it’s evening before Eliott sees Lucas again.

“Me too,” Lucas whispers, disappointment in his tone, “You were gone when I woke up this morning.” 

“I know,” Eliott frowns, tracing Lucas’ eyebrow with his finger, trailing it down his cheek and along his jawline. Lucas softens at the touch, “It pains me leaving you like that, when you’re lying there looking so beautiful.”

Lucas’ eyes are so blue, so clear. Eliott has learned the different shades of blue that interlace within them by heart throughout the years; how they glisten in moments of happiness, how they sometimes fade into a deeper tone during moments of intimacy, how his left eye has an almost undetectable fibre of green along the curve of his pupil. 

They look up at him now, a luminous glint causing them to yield an innocent baby blue like a summer’s sky. It’s stark against the light pink that stains his cheeks as he smiles. He huffs lightly, “When I’m asleep? Really? Drooling everywhere and everything?”

“ _Especially_ when you’re drooling everywhere,” Eliott confirms, kissing him again softly. “You’re always beautiful.”

They make it into the restaurant eventually, a polite waiter greeting them and leading them towards their table.

The place is fancy, its pristine décor expensive and luxurious. The glass chandelier above them reflects embers of light across the room and the glossy cutlery is laid out prestigiously on the crisp white table cloth. Eliott feels like even looking at the surrounding objects with his inferior eyes will result in them shattering into thin air with how fragile they appear.

It isn’t really their usual scene — very much unlike their usual _ordering takeout and watching bad netflix movies on the sofa_ kind of evenings. But momentous occasions call for drastic measures, Eliott decides, _go big or go home._

Lucas doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he happily grabs his menu and begins to flick through the pages of it. Eliott gets lost in how his eyebrows crinkle together in concentration, causing a thin line to form along his forehead. How his eyelashes fan across his cheeks every time his eyes flicker to the bottom of the menu. How his lips tug upwards playfully as he looks over to Eliott and giggles: _they have spotted dick, that’s your kinda thing, is it not?_

Eliott can’t help but chuckle at his immaturity, because they are dining amongst some of the most pretentious folks in Paris and Lucas is making dick jokes. They really have mastered the art of that — of not being able to take things very seriously.

“Sounds delicious,” Eliott indulges, teasing. “Maybe we can take dessert home for later.” He smirks, loving how it causes Lucas to blush slightly despite his smugness.

It goes like that for a while. They talk easily, teasing back and forth over their meals. Lucas asks about Eliott’s exhibition meeting, and Eliott laughs amusedly as Lucas tells him about the guy in his biochem class who accidentally added an extremely questionable email attachment to a chain message to the entire class, including their professor, that was supposed to be a lab report but most definitely was not a lab report.

“But like, how do you even _do that_ ? Did he not check what he was linking before he hit send? You _always_ check. Oh my god.” Eliott asks, scandalised.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Lucas breathes, chewing on his steak, “I don’t think I’d be able to show my face in that class ever again if it was me.”

Eliott almost forgets the anxiety-inducing reason he had asked Lucas out on this date in the first place, _almost_. He can feel the ring burning a profound hole in his left pocket, making sure it’s presence is still known.

And it’s not that Eliott is afraid Lucas will say no — although, perhaps it’s a slight concern — it’s more to do with the magnitude of the situation. Because this is huge, a lifelong commitment that will impact them forever and Eliott just wants it to be perfect.

A commotion of gasps cause Lucas and Eliott to break away from their witless discussion on whether cereal should be considered a soup or not — which, it definitely fucking shouldn’t, Eliott rightfully protests — and glance towards the opposite end of the restaurant. 

Eliott’s heart plummets. There’s a man — a little older than them, facial hair scruffy in an attractive sort of way, in a polished navy suit — resting on one knee in front of a girl. The girl, stunning in a way that is undeniable, smiles, wide and excited while nodding her head vigorously. She then pulls the man into a hug, tears spilling over eyes and nestling into shoulders.

The room breaks out into a chorus of cheers, and Eliott turns his head back to look at Lucas. He finds him shaking his head, a small unsatisfied twinge to his lips, “Fuck. I would die if someone did that to me.”

Eliott feels only slightly sick to his stomach, pouncing for an explanation maybe a beat too quickly. “What do you mean?”

Lucas shrugs, poking a mushroom with his fork and inspecting it closely before scrunching his nose and letting it fall back onto his plate, “Like the whole proposal in public thing. It’s too much pressure, I’d hate that.”

Eliott doesn’t know what to say, he’s speechless, mostly.

The thing is, he can’t propose now, _surely._ Not now that the other couple have just beat them to it, not now that Lucas has said this, used the words, _I’d hate that,_ and, worstly, _I would die_.

It seems as though, unfortunately, Eliott is back to the drawing board.

  
  
  


ii.

When Eliott had told his friends about his plan to propose to his boyfriend of six years, they had stampeded him in an excitable pile-on. It was chaos. Eliott had gotten a mouthful of Sofiane’s hair in his face and Idriss’ elbow shoved into his stomach. They became an unending tangle of limbs and laughter on the floor of Lucas and Eliott’s apartment.

“Dude! That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you,” Idriss had said, slightly short of breath when they finally resurfaced from the floor.

Sofiane had ruffled his hair, smile warm. “Our little Eli tying the knot. I think I might cry.”

It’s them, actually, who provide Eliott with his next proposal idea — after telling them about the disaster that was the first attempt. They had found it hilarious, which is simultaneously irking and justified. Because Eliott should have _known_ that it would have been a terrible idea to propose to Lucas in a posh restaurant. As although Lucas enjoys flaunting their relationship to everyone and anyone, he’s still some parts reserved about it. So Eliott should just _know_ that a public proposal would be the very _last_ thing his boyfriend would want.

So that’s how Eliott ends up here, in the field behind their apartment building, battling with the rake he borrowed from his parents' place as he attempts to spell out, _will you marry me,_ in the leaves that blanket the grass. Cars are a distant thing, which is good considering Eliott most likely looks insane kneeling here on the damp grass to carve out the dip of a question mark.

Admittedly, it strays a little from the original plan — one that included things like rose petals and bedsheets and far too many candles for Eliott to be trusted with. But in winter flowers tend to wilt, and so this is what Eliott was able to come up with as a substitute. He steps back to admire his work when he’s finished, contemplates briefly binning the idea altogether, thinks maybe it’s a little silly, a bit useless. _What if Lucas thinks it’s stupid?_

November is cold. Eliott’s hands ache from gripping onto the harsh wood of the rake handle for too long. His jeans are damp and his back could do with cracking. His chest feels heavy, tight, _teeming._

It’s not really about the leaves anyway, though, he decides in the end — it’s the idea that matters. He made an effort, and he wants this, he wants it so bad that he’ll do anything to have it. That has to count for something.

Lucas is at the kitchen table munching on a cheese sandwich when Eliott pokes his head in. “Hey cutie,” he calls into the room, grinning when Lucas rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless.

“Where did you disappear to?” Lucas mumbles around a mouthful of bread.

Eliott raises his eyebrows, smiling smugly, “Mhm.”

“Mhm, what?” Lucas narrows his eyes.

“Come with me,” Eliott reaches his arm out to motion for Lucas to follow him, “I have a surprise for you.” 

Lucas swallows. “Right now?”

“Yes right now.”

Lucas raises his sandwich, helplessly, pouting adorably, “But my sandwich—“ His face looks so dejected at the thought of having to neglect his lunch in favour of Eliott’s antics, and with his stubborn streak as well as eyes that are as devouring as the pacific ocean, Eliott is far too weak to say no. And so Lucas finishes his damn sandwich. Eliott’s leg pounces under the table as he waits while Lucas chews far slower than necessary just to be a nuisance.

After, Eliott drags him by the hand down the stairs of their apartment building and towards the back field.

“Where on earth are you taking me?” Lucas whines for the third time in the past two minutes, his feet dragging impishly behind Eliott.

Eliott only finds the level of his boyfriend’s impatience immensely adorable, “I’ve bought you a hundred puppies.”

Lucas shoves him, lightly. “Don’t even joke about that,” he gasps, completely appalled that Eliott would even think about giving him such false hope.

“Come on!” Eliott stresses when Lucas looks at him bemusedly from the other side of the barbed wire fence circuiting the field. “It’s better than that.”

“If you want me to do stunts you’re going to have to pay up,” he deadpans, eyeing the wired gate sceptically.

Eliott rolls his eyes. “Just take my hand, I’ll help you over.”

Lucas looks unimpressed, but accepts Eliott’s help anyway, huffing, “If we get arrested for trespassing you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” Eliott only pinches his hip in retaliation, evoking a little squeal.

They wander further into the field, towards the area in which Eliott had laid out his masterpiece, but Eliott doesn’t look. He’s too enamored by the side of Lucas’ stunning face, a bit afraid of what he’ll see there when Lucas notices.

But — nothing. Lucas has no reaction, he only stares blankly ahead of him, void. Eliott feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

“So…?” Lucas draws out, his eyes flicking over to meet Eliott’s, a confused line between his brows. Eliott feels just as lost as Lucas looks. He turns his head towards the patch of grass he had worked on just a mere ten minutes ago, is entirely surprised to see, well, nothing.

There is nothing there, only a scatter of incoherent bundles of leaves and the damp grass. Eliott’s gaze darts across the rest of the land, thinking maybe he’d gotten the wrong area. But still, nothing.

It’s in this moment of panic that Eliott feels the strong breeze hitting his skin, demanding and _there_ and it occurs to him, then, that he isn’t losing his mind but that, _of course,_ it’s winter and it’s fucking _windy,_ likely sweeping his message away into the abyss, and Lucas is looking at him as though he’s gone completely insane.

“Eliott?” Lucas calls lightly, “are we just going to stand here, or?”

And Eliott can’t let Lucas know how badly he messed up, allowing the force of nature to ruin his second attempt at proposing. It’s a _disaster_ — no, _he’s_ a disaster.

So Eliott does the only thing he can think of in that moment, reaching his hand down to Lucas’ crotch and yelling out an exaggerated, _ball tag!_ before sprinting away to the other end of the field before Lucas even has a chance to react. He thinks it’s a solid attempt at deflecting the situation, really, and he’s pretty chuffed with himself. And if Lucas suspects something odd he doesn’t mention it, as he chases Eliott across the field in fits of laughter.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” he chuckles into Eliott’s space when he finally catches up and they fall to the ground together, Eliott’s back splayed across the damp grass and Lucas gazing down at him, the most ethereal smile on his face.

“I love you,” Eliott says then, because it’s what he’s thinking, and he wants to say it. He’s caught off guard by it, just a bit, like he mostly is, even after all of these years. But it’s a potent feeling, _fierce._ Lucas’ face somehow becomes even brighter.

“And I love you.”

Eliott giggles, it gets lost in Lucas' mouth. Their lips slot together, seamlessly, lovingly. It still takes Eliott’s breath away how electrifying Lucas’ lips are, he’ll never tire of this feeling, of kissing Lucas, of how consuming it is.

It’s stupid, and Lucas probably thinks he’s lost his damn mind, dragging him out here in the freezing cold for absolutely no reason. But if fate thinks today isn’t the day Eliott is destined to ask Lucas to marry him then he’ll take the hint — he isn’t one to mess with signs of the universe — and he’ll just try again.

And again, and again, again, and again, until the moment is theirs, and until it’s nothing less than perfect.

  
  


iii.

Eliott thinks the reason for his previous downfalls is perhaps due to the fact that he hasn’t been putting enough thought into his attempts.

Most of their friend group know about Eliott’s plan by now, and they are all rooting for him, some in more blatant ways than others. (Like the daily buzzfeed articles from Basile, the _67 most romantic ways to propose,_ and, _19 beautiful proposal stories that will warm your frozen heart,_ kind of ones.) Eliott may scorn their absurdness, but secretly he did read a couple, and the main point he had managed to pull out from the bundle of discursive nonsense was _sentiment_ . His proposal needs to have meaning, be special and individualized to _them_ , a symbolism of Lucas and Eliott as a couple.

It takes him a couple of weeks to come up with his next idea, and he finds himself constantly asking himself: _what’s something that represents our love for one another?_ He’s lying on the sofa, watching Lucas try to fix the tv that has just lost signal by whacking it with his hand when the thought hits him. 

_The drawings._

Back in high school Eliott would always be slipping little notes and sketches into Lucas’ pocket or gym bag when he wasn’t looking. He liked the sentiment of catching him by surprise and brightening his day with a random thought or compliment, accompanied by doodles of a slightly chaotic raccoon showing his adoration for a curious hedgehog. He loves putting his imagination into those kinds of things, he loves drawing, and he loves Lucas. So it’s only fitting the two come together.

So, that night, as Lucas sleeps next to him — hair splayed messily across the pillow, lips parted slightly, small puffs of breath ghosting over Eliott arm — Eliott gets to work. The bedroom is bathed in a soft glow as he traces the outline of the familiar characters, street lights outside and the moon wrapping his page in a silvery light. It induces a nostalgic kind of feeling in him, a reminder of the innocence they had back then — young and falling in love, and it’s beautiful, really, how much they’ve grown and how far they’ve come together.

Eliott smiles without fully realising it, it tugs at his lips as he shades the spikes of his hedgehog — the animal still proving accurate to Lucas’ appearance, since his hair is still just as spiky and dishevelled as it was when he was sixteen. It comes fluently. The drawing gets split into two scenes. In the first, Lucas and Eliott are at a bus stop — the day feels familiar, sparks a deep warmth in his chest, the day he told Lucas he loved him for the first time — it’s captioned: _eliott no. 897 thinking that one day he’s going to marry his lucas no. 1042._

The second illustration represents them now, he draws this Lucas more grown, more confident. This Eliott holds out a ring expectantly. He captions it: _eliott no. 1 takes a leap of faith and proposes to lucas no. 1._

It’s cute, and he folds it neatly, adding a little, _for the love of my life_ , on the front for good measure. He then places it safely in the drawer of his bedside table before crawling back into bed, wrapping himself around Lucas entirely. Their legs tangle under the covers. Lucas’ arms find Eliott’s waist even in sleep.

In the morning he would slip Lucas the note and wait for him to finish reading before presenting him with the ring. It’s faultless, really, _genius_ actually, _because literally what could go wrong?_

Everything goes wrong, apparently. As the next morning comes and Lucas stumbles into the kitchen looking tremendously exhausted while Eliott makes them breakfast. The drawing is hidden under a pile of papers and letters that had already been on the table. The kettle whistles. The sun that shines into the kitchen is light, expectant.

“Coffee?” Eliott asks over his shoulder as Lucas falls into one of the kitchen chairs. He wordlessly nods before letting his forehead fall to the table with a groan. Eliott chuckles softly, heart expanding at the adorableness of his exaggeration. (He’s definitely seen Lucas rise far earlier than this for his morning classes. He voices this thought, which only earns him another dismissing grumble.)

“You gonna be grumpy this morning?” Eliott teases as he stirs a spoonful of sugar into Lucas’ coffee. His own is left unsweetened.

Lucas’ response is muffled, his face still pressed into the wood of the table. “Not if you promise to come back to bed with me right now,” he sighs heavily as he continues to complain. “I don’t know why you’re up so early anyway. _It’s_ _Saturday_.”

Eliott’s laugh is amused. “It’s almost eleven, my love.”

“You know—“ a sigh, a small smile, “—I hear you talking but I still don’t have my coffee.” 

Eliott rolls his eyes, enamoured. “We can go back to bed after breakfast,” he compromises, finally setting the mug of freshly brewed coffee next to Lucas’ head on the table. It causes Lucas to finally resurface from his self-wallowing pit, which is the first disaster in a series of multiple disasters. His eyes fall slightly vacant, like he’s seeing stars from the sudden movement of rising his head and seeing light. He wobbles in his seat, a little disorientated, a bit worryingly. Then he spreads his elbows wider on the table to balance himself, his vision must not catch up in time as he completely misses the steaming hot mug of coffee sat next to him.

It happens frantically. Lucas knocks over the drink, the liquid spilling across the table and all over the papers strewn over it, leaving them completely soaked. Eliott scrambles to try and salvage them. Lucas swears as his brain kicks back into place, realising the mess he has just created.

“Fuck’m sorry. I can’t even think,” he apologises, running an exasperated and over his face.

Eliott rummages through the papers, looking for the only one he really cares about. When he finds it, it’s completely ruined, and Eliott’s heart sinks. The ink bleeds down the paper as it mixes with the coffee stain, dark and messy. The words are unreadable and the drawings have melted into one big smudge.

“Are they important?” Lucas’ voice, when it comes, is small, guilty almost.

Eliott snaps his gaze up, finds Lucas watching him worriedly. _This isn’t his fault,_ Eliott reminds himself, smiling at him softly. “No,” Eliott says. The papers are scrunched up and thrown into the bin. “Don’t worry, love, it’s nothing,” he reassures when Lucas doesn’t look at all convinced.

It hurts a lot to see Lucas sad, so Eliott wipes the dejected look right off his face by kneeling next to him and pulling him down in a sweet kiss. A kiss that, for one, surprisingly, seems to wake him up entirely, and two, results in them retreating back to the comfort of their bed and refusing to leave for the remainder of the day. And it’s not how Eliott had planned for the morning to pan out — nothing really seems to be going his way, lately — but still, it is wonderful.

  
  


iv.

So, this was the plan: Eliott would meet Basile and Arthur at _La Petite Ceinture_ at 22h and Yann would give them approximately thirty minutes to set up before dragging Lucas along for the big reveal. Fairy lights hang from the bridge where he and Lucas had shared their first kiss. 

Admittedly, Eliott doesn’t have so much of a _plan,_ per say, but more of a, _make the place look pretty and hope that everything falls into place after that,_ kind of mindset.

He’s sitting on a ledge under the bridge when Basile and Arthur finally arrive, “What’s that nervous look for?” Basile asks as they approach him, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, the worst that can happen is he says no.” Arthur elbows him in the ribs.

“Oh God, don’t say that,” Eliott groans, stomach sinking.

“He won’t say no,” Arthur interjects, certain.

Basile hums unconvincingly, “I don’t know. Everyone said that about my cousin and his girlfriend for years, and _she_ said no.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, reaching for a box of fairy lights and throwing Eliott a secret look. “Yeah, well straight people suck,” he says, completely unfaltering as he shoves the box into Basile’s chest.

Basile huffs out a breath. “You know—“ the lights are tangled, more so than Eliott’s thoughts currently, the task is distracting enough to ease a bit of the stress, “I’m offended that neither of you get my humour after all these years. I’m kidding, _obviously_. Of course Lucas will say yes, the loser is head over heels for you, man!”

When Yann arrives at the scene with a confused Lucas in tow, Eliott has just finished hanging the last string of lights. He shoos Arthur and Basile off to the side. Yann joins.

And then Lucas is there, hesitantly standing at the entrance of the bridge, gold tones swallowing him entirely. He looks around before he speaks. With every slight movement light catches, on his eyelashes and the swoops of his hair, in just the right way. In a way that causes little inordinate flecks of gold to waver over skin like fireflies. Shadows cut into the hallows of his cheeks, the corner of his eyes, the slant of his jawline. Eliott feels dizzy with it.

He’s still vastly aware of the eyes burning into the back of his head. But the way Lucas looks at him seems to cause all of that to fall away, and their audience is a distant thing that doesn’t matter at all. Not now, not anymore.

When Lucas speaks, it’s quiet in the stillness, but the rawness to his voice still manages to spread a wildfire of warmth throughout Eliott’s chest. “What’s all this for?” he whispers, taking a few small steps closer.

Awe dilates his pupils. Eliott wants to capture the look on Lucas’ face in this exact moment and keep it forever — to frame it in a photo, paint it in watercolours, sketch it into the sky so that he never forgets.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s the only thing Eliott can really fathom in that moment, his mind unable to think of anything other than the ethereality Lucas radiates as he smiles up at him, the blue of eyes glistening against the warm tones surrounding them.

It stains Lucas’ cheeks red. He bites down onto his bottom lip. Eliott closes the remaining distance between them. “Did you do all of this? For me?” Eliott’s hands fist onto the excess material of Lucas’ jacket to pull him closer. 

“Only for you. _Always_ ,” he mumbles. Foreheads press together, eyes flutter shut, breath is light. The feeling is devouring. His heart thumps, Lucas’ hair is soft to the touch, his smile endlessly pretty. Eliott’s hands fit perfectly into the curves of Lucas’ face — they always have.

 _This is it,_ he thinks.

He’s about to do it — start the little speech that’s been in his head now for months — then — 

“ _Hey —“_ It all happens so quickly, one second he’s gazing into Lucas’ wide eyes, drowning in the oceans they hold, and the next there’s a loud, “— what in hell do you boys think you’re doing out here!?”

And then they’re all running.

They scurry away like rabbits under a headlight, Eliott blinks and he’s panting heavily as he sprints through the forest. Lucas is by his side, he’s laughing vivaciously. Basile, Yann and Arthur manage to get separated from them at some point, and they eventually manage to escape the area, throwing themselves up against a nearby wall and heaving out exasperated breaths. It’s maybe odd how they’re both perhaps far too ecstatic for two people who have almost just been caught trespassing in the middle of the night. Eliott doesn’t care.

“Fuck that was close,” Lucas huffs out.

Eliott laughs. Adrenaline is like a drug, they say, Lucas makes it feel so much more intoxicating. “I hope you have that lawyer on speed dial,” he teases.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Lucas taps a finger to his temple lightly, “they’ll be coming for you.”

Eliott wraps an arm around Lucas’ shoulders, drawing him into his chest, “Let’s go home,” he whispers, nosing into his hair. 

Lucas looks up at him, his smile is brighter than every single star currently looking down on them, the moon, too, even. His is voice so gentle not even clouds could tear. 

“Home,” he mumbles into Eliott’s chest, warm, soft, _lovingly_.

And they go.

  
  


v.

The pan sizzles. Droplets of oil splash onto Eliott’s skin, he swears lightly, adjusting the heat. He sticks to the recipe, because tonight matters and he wants things to go right. And because recently it feels as though everything is going wrong.

At this point all Eliott wants to do is grab Lucas by the shoulders and yell, “ _marry me_ ,” into his face. It’s taking a lot of self-control not to, because the question pops into his head at least five times a day. Like just last night, when Eliott had climbed into bed, sliding his cold feet in between Lucas’ legs. Lucas had groaned and shoved Eliott to the opposite side of the mattress, mumbling a sleepy, “fuck you, fucking asshole,” and all Eliott could think was, _I want to be with you for the rest of my life._

So. Yeah, it’s proving to be quite the hindrance on his daily life.

He eyes the contents of the pan. It’s Lucas’ favourite. There are candles on the table, and with the darkness outside it illuminates the kitchen in a watery glow, warm, golden. Lucas will be home soon, his shift ended twenty minutes ago, Eliott can’t seem to stop the shaking of his hands.

The rattle of keys turn in the front door. Footsteps patter down the hallway. Something in the pan hisses at Eliott. 

“Hey.” Keys are dropped onto the counter. Lucas looks tired, there are coffee stains on his worn t-shirt.

“Hi, my love, how was work?” Eliott greets him, smiling happily.

Now fully aware of his own surroundings, Lucas squints. Eliott’s question is ignored. “What are you doing?” he asks, sceptically.

Eliott dumps a pile of chopped vegetables into the pan, shrugging, “I’m cooking us dinner, what does it look like?”

“But—,” Lucas frowns, stares, “you never cook. The last time you cooked we had to leave the windows open for a full day to get rid of the burning smell.”

And, well, Eliott would be offended if Lucas weren’t so right. It’s not one of his proudest moments. Only, this time it’s different, this time there are recipes to be followed and a whole lot of determination to make tonight absolutely perfect.

“Yeah, okay,” Eliott surrenders, “but this will be good, trust me. I just wanted to be romantic, you know.”

Lucas smiles at this, soft and pretty. He walks over to Eliott and rests his chin on his shoulder from behind.

“You’re cute,” he mumbles into Eliott’s t-shirt, hands wrapping around waist. “You even got candles and everything?”

Eliott hums, leaning back into Lucas’ touch as he moves the contents around in the pan with a spatula. “Romantic. Told you,” he mumbles.

“So romantic,” Lucas whispers, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin at the side of Eliott’s neck, and another further down, closer to his shoulder. This one lingers, Lucas’ warm breath fanning across his skin. It burns. He makes a slow trail along Eliott’s skin, lips hot but chilling, still. Goosebumps erupt. Eliott melts into it, breath irregulates, hands fumble.

Lucas' arms are wrapped around him tightly, and slowly, ever so slightly, he feels a hand inch from its place on his stomach, edging lower, lower and lower until it slips underneath the fabric of his shirt. Lucas’ hands are cold from the walk home, Eliott gasps lightly as hands splay across bare skin. Shivers amplify as Lucas’ hand explores the span of Eliott’s stomach, his hips, his chest. It’s hard to think, suddenly, Eliott sighs contentedly.

There are still lips working at his neck and the dip of his shoulder. Each kiss lasts longer than the one before, _teasing_. Eliott lets out a shuddering breath as Lucas’ fingers brush the waistband of his jeans, testing for Eliott’s reaction. When Eliott only hums, Lucas takes it as an invitation to slip his hand further under Eliott’s jeans and across the thin material of his boxers.

“Fuck,” Eliott huffs, the word almost lost in the breathiness of his voice.

“Good?” Lucas mumbles, his lips brushing faintly against Eliott’s ear.

“Mhm. More,” Eliott responds almost inarticulately, his brain unable to think of anything other than Lucas and Lucas’ hands and his lips and his voice — how warm it feels everywhere.

The food in the pan is a long forgotten memory by now. Lucas’ hand wanders further _._ Eliott turns and they’re kissing, fevered, frenzied, _frantic_ . Lucas only breaks away so that useless pieces of clothing can be removed. “Been thinking about this all day,” he pants, breathless, trailing kisses from Eliott’s neck, down his chest, lower and lower and lower. Hands soothe over Eliott’s sides. His eyes are dark and alluring, _devouring._ The way he looks up at Eliott through his eyelashes, shadows fitting perfectly into the contours of his face, is encompassing. Eliott feels dizzy.

The surface of the kitchen counter is solid against his back, he grips onto the edge of it when Lucas unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down his legs along with his boxers. 

Lucas’ mouth works like a sin, deliberate and filthy, heinously taunting. Eliott’s hands leave the counter to instead tangle in Lucas’ hair, tugging gently. It causes Lucas to moan around him, taking him deeper. Cheeks hallow, breath comes out strangled. Lucas’ eyelashes are dark against the pale skin under his eyes as they flutter shut, his eyebrows furrow slightly as he concentrates on nothing but making Eliott feel. He looks so flawlessly beautiful like this, _ruinous_.

And _fuck_ , this isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. Eliott should be the one on his knees right now, with a ring in his hand as he asks Lucas to marry him.

Eliott finishes obscenely quickly. Self-control is an implausible thing around someone as captivating as Lucas. He comes with his knuckles straining white against the countertop, a string of incoherent mumble tumbling from his lips, Lucas easing him through it.

His legs give out, after that, his knees buckling as he pulls his jeans back up and sinks to the floor. His back hits against the cupboard with a thump as he attempts to regain control of his senses again. “Well fuck,” he pants, “that escalated quickly.”

Lucas chuckles, leaning forward to peck Eliott’s lips, “You look beautiful when you come.” His voice is raspy, lips red and swollen, eyes lightly taunting.

Eliott swats him away. “You’re an idiot,” he jabs, eyes rolling. Lucas only giggles. Eliott pulls him back in, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and tucking his face into Lucas’ hair. Nothing is said for a few long moments. The silence stretches, Eliott still hasn’t quite come down from the adrenaline of the past few minutes. But then —

The sudden piercing of the smoke alarm echos throughout the apartment.

“ _Shit.”_ Eliott stands abruptly, Lucas almost flying to the floor in the process. “No, no, _no_.”

It’s only now that Eliott realises the strong burning smell, the light haze of smoke coming from the pan. The pan is removed from the hob, the heat switched off completely. Eliott attempts pathetically to waft the smoke away with his hand. When it eventually dissipates, somewhat, it’s to reveal his completely ruined meal — black like charcoal. He groans.

“Oops,” he hears Lucas from behind him, there is a slight look of guilt on his face, “I think that was maybe a little bit my fault.”

“It was most definitely your fault! That was sabotage!” Eliott points to him in accusation, appalled.

“Well—“ Lucas hums, unconvinced by Eliott’s outrage as he raises his eyebrows pointedly, “ I didn’t see you protesting five minutes ago.”

Eliott rolls his eyes, looking back to his burnt dish helplessly, not really knowing what to do. It’s unsalvageable, a _disaster_ . There’s no way he can follow through with the plan now, _what’s a romantic candlelit dinner proposal without the dinner part, anyway_. It wouldn’t make sense.

“Sorry,” Lucas says then, Eliott turns, shaking his head. He’s not actually annoyed, see, not at Lucas. He’s more annoyed with himself and his shocking inability to propose like a normal, _functioning,_ human being.

“It’s okay,” Eliott assures him, winding his arms around Lucas’ waist. He pulls him closer, whispers a teasing, “I’ll just have to get you back for it later,” into his ear. Deciding to consciously drag his lips across the shell of Lucas’ ear as he does so. Lucas visibly shudders, all previous cockiness draining from him entirely.

Eliott extracts himself, gone as abruptly as he had walked over, then grins as Lucas stands opposite him, gaping, _staring._

“I’ll get the takeout menu then?” Eliott says. Lucas nods, dumbfounded, lips parted. 

Eliott definitely makes him pay for it later that night.

  
  


+i.

It’s strange, how as humans we put so much weight on single moments; building up days, months or years worth of anticipation for the muttering of the three words. _I love you_ , we say, or the posing of a question, _will you marry me?_ We wait for the perfect opportunity, wasting time wondering if it’s the right thing to do, _is this what I really want? Is it what they want? What if I regret things later on?_

We’re too apprehensive, to the point where it becomes so overwhelming we freeze up. We think too much, we miss our opportunities. Because if you don’t cling onto the things you have with everything in you, if you don’t jump on those moments and make your heart known; they slip away eventually. Good things don’t wait around forever, they come and they go, and one minute you have the world clasped firmly in your hand and the next it’s slipping through your fingertips, fading away until all you have left is yourself and a question that isn’t just left unanswered; it wasn’t even asked in the first place.

And maybe it’s an anxiety thing, Eliott has always struggled with the fear of rejection and abandonment. He’s experienced the dejecting feeling of losing someone important to him one too many times. Although that’s all in the past now, he’s reconnected with those friends, come to accept that the people who truly love him are the only ones worth keeping around. Therapists will come and go and Eliott is strong enough now that he can learn to adapt to changes as such, he knows he can’t just rely on one single person for his happiness.

It’s been almost seven years since Eliott met Lucas, so he should just know by now that Lucas would never abandon him, would never leave just like that. Their relationship isn’t faultless, it has flaws still. But it’s mostly perfect — perfect in all the ways that matter. There are arguments, days that are hard, little disagreements. But that’s normal, and there is never a night that ends differently to them falling asleep tangled in each other’s arms.

So the fact that Eliott has put so much pressure on himself to ask this one question is why it almost comes as a bit of a shock to him when he finally finds himself saying the words. This time, there are no plans, no thought out extravagance. It just happens, and it goes like this.

They’re lying out on the balcony of their apartment, it’s maybe noon, the sun at its highest point in the sky, pouring down on them, warm against skin. Eliott is lying on the outdoor sofa they had found in a yard sale three years ago, wearing only a pair of gym shorts with his feet resting on Lucas’ lap. Lucas is sat on the other end, his laptop placed on Eliott’s ankles as he types away at some extensive biology report that Eliott probably wouldn’t be able to understand even if he tried — Lucas is just smart like that — it’s nothing unordinary. 

Lucas’ eyebrows are furrowed slightly, his eyes squinting from the sun as he curls his bottom lip under his teeth in concentration. Eliott isn’t doing anything, really, he’s just been going between lightly snoozing and watching Lucas work, enjoying how smooth his tanned skin looks after he removes his shirt in a huff at the unnecessary heat. Now Eliott is able to see the slight shimmer to his upper half as the sun thrives and burns. Beads of sweat form at the nape of their necks.

It’s July, so it’s just something they have to put up with. The humidness in the air makes Eliott feel tired and groggy, his eyes falling shut lazily every so often. But they always flutter open again because Lucas is right there, humming the vague tune of _What a Wonderful World_ to himself absentmindedly, the hazy outline of the Eiffel Tower just about visible in the distance and something about the moment feels so _right_ , so simple and beautiful.

So when Lucas scrunches his nose, mumbling a baffled, “How am I supposed to fit an entire argument on whether crustaceans are paraphyletic into only five hundred words?” it’s like something in Eliott’s brain finally kicks into place.

“Marry me,” Eliott murmurs then, the words forcing their way out of his mouth, a bit defiant, mostly expected with a moment like this. He doesn’t think Lucas hears him at first, as he doesn’t seem to react very much.

“Hm?” He looks away from his laptop, his eyes questioning.

Eliott uses his elbows to move into an upright position, “I said marry me,” he repeats himself, unfaltering, and for the first time in his life he can’t read the look on Lucas’ face.

“Marry you?” Lucas’ voice is quiet, it’s not demanding or shocked, but merely soft and wondering.

Eliott nods, removing his feet from underneath Lucas’ laptop so he can sit up straight and move closer. “You’re my world, Lucas, you know that right?” he says, not allowing Lucas any time to respond. “You mean everything to me, Lucas. I can’t imagine a life without you, because _you’re_ everything. And a life without you in it would be so dull and boring, seriously. I don’t want that, not again. I see us together until the day I die, and maybe that sounds cheesy, I don’t know, but if that means forever then, yeah, I want that with you. There is no one as wonderful as you, you know I’m terrible at speeches, but. Yeah.”

Words seem to scatter, lost in the way Eliott’s heartbeat flutters rapidly. He notices now the small upwards tilt tugging at Lucas’ lips, his eyes glistening and damp. Eliott can feel his own eyes becoming wet as he speaks. He speaks again, this time the words are more reserved in the stillness enveloped around them, the words that have been consuming his every thought for months now, the ones meant for Lucas. Lucas only.

“Lucas, will you marry me?”

Lucas is nodding before the question is even halfway out of Eliott’s mouth, a breathy laugh tumbles between them, his grin is blinding, _golden._ “Yeah,” he hiccups, tears staining his cheeks. “ _Yes_ , of course I’ll marry you, Eliott. Fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eliott can feel his own cheeks dampening, a dull ache spreads. Lucas falls into his arms. His smell is familiar, he cups Eliott’s face, their foreheads rest together. 

“I love you. I want forever with you, too,” he mumbles wetly, lovingly. Eliott shuts his eyes, feels fingertips brush away his tears, they slot into the curve of his smile. He reaches out, grasping onto Lucas’ waist because he just needs to touch and feel him there, to make sure this isn’t just a vivid fragment of his imagination, that he isn’t currently stuck in one of those dreams he’s been having over the past couple of months about this exact moment.

When Eliott opens his eyes he’s met with Lucas’ own staring right back, full of love and emotion. “I love you, too,” is whispered back.

Lucas kisses him, then, deep and keen. It’s full of passion and tears and smiles, it’s six years worth of kisses and love crushed into one, soft lips searching and persistently needing, tongues meeting and fingers pressing into skin. Eliott wraps his arms entirely around Lucas’ middle, pulling him on top of him in a straddle as he lies back down onto the sofa. Lucas moves easily, falling onto Eliott and deepening the kiss as his hands move to his hair, tugging at the strands and pulling a muffled moan out of him. Eliott’s own hands wander across every inch of Lucas’ skin, feeling the familiar bumps of his spine and the dip at the small of his back. It’s electrifying. Distantly, Eliott feels a cosmic sky erupt behind his closed eyelids, igniting his pulse and causing his heart to beat effervescently inside of his chest.

The realisation hits him then, just as Lucas begins to grind down on his lap — _the ring._ He breaks away from the kiss, placing his hands to Lucas’ chest to keep him at a distance.

“I have to—“ Eliott is broken off when Lucas pushes down again, their crotches aligning and causing Eliott to tilt his head with the friction it creates. He sees the satisfaction Lucas gets from it, _micheavous,_ but he _can’t_ right now. There are things more important to get on with.

“You have to what, baby?” Lucas prompts, lips trailing along Eliott’s jawline, his voice hoarse from kissing. 

Eliott takes a deep breath in order to regain control of himself, “I have to get something.”

“Right now?” It’s unimpressed.

Eliott nods, sitting up and sliding Lucas off him. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s gone before anything else can be said, hurrying into the apartment and down the hallway that leads to their bedroom. He opens his bedside drawer, pushing away the random unimportant items until he finds it, he curls his fist around it protectively and he’s back onto the balcony before he’s sure Lucas has all but blinked in his absence.

Confusion slants over Lucas’ face, his lips are swollen, hair dishevelled. Eliott thinks he must look as wrecked himself. He moves until he’s right in front of Lucas, then kneels on one leg before him, holding out his hand and presenting the silver band.

“Lucas Lallemant,” Eliott begins, obnoxious and dramatic, _theoretically_ almost. 

“ _Eliott_.” His cheeks colour red.

Eliott ignores him, his smile so wide it makes it hard to get his words out, “My light, my world, my love!” he says, ”the love of my life!” He doesn’t really know what he’s saying anymore, he’s talking shit, really, just because he loves how it makes Lucas’ squirm, how beautiful his smile gets like this. It's mesmerising. He’s stunning.

“Will you marry me?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “I already said yes, you idiot.”

“Yeah, but this time I have a ring, see?” He holds it up higher for Lucas to see, it glistens against the sharp light of the sun.

“You have a ring,” Lucas breathes, it’s not really a question, but almost as if he’s trying to comprehend the situation — the fact that Eliott is here with a ring and is completely and utterly serious about it.

“I’ve had it for months now,” Eliott admits, “This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to propose to you, actually.”

“Oh?”

“This is the—” he pauses, mentally counting the series of disasters in his head, “—sixth time.”

The confession causes Lucas to pull away, his eyes widening. “ _Six times_? When?” And Eliott can only laugh about it now. 

“Things just kept going wrong, like the time in the restaurant where that other couple proposed, and when I brought you to the field, and then I tried to give you a drawing but you spilled coffee everywhere, then there was the bridge when we got busted by the night guard, and fuck, the time I tried to make you dinner and you distracted me. It was all a bit of a mess, you really weren’t making things easy for me.”

Eliott watches the different stages of realisation display across Lucas’ face as he rambles on about all of his failed attempts. It’s funny, how oblivious he had been to everything. 

“I thought you were being fucking strange!” He says in accusation, “I just told myself it was nothing. Fuck, you’ve been trying to propose this entire time?” He seems to find it a little hilarious, but he’s still clearly taken aback. 

“Yeah,” Eliott breathes. “Now come here and let me finally put this damn ring on you.”

They laugh wetly. Eliott feels a little bit drunk off the light in Lucas’ eyes, thinks even ecstasy wouldn’t be able to reach the level of high he feels right now. The ring is slipped onto Lucas’ finger, fitting perfectly. More tears are shed.

“I love it,” Lucas whispers, his eyes flickering across the band in curiosity, “Love you,” he mumbles after, glancing back to Eliott. The look in his eyes transcends even the brightest of stars, the sun too.

Love really does heal. Eliott had spent so many years feeling alone, like nobody could understand him, nobody could love him in the way he so desperately wanted to be loved. And then there Lucas was, making it his mission to prove Eliott wrong by loving him in every way possible.

He’s shown a love that infuses his every action, infiltrates his every thought, guides his every move; a love that is now an entire part of him. It’s a love that has allowed him to achieve an inner comfort that he had almost started to believe was unattainable for someone like him.

Lucas has given that to him, wholeheartedly, and now Eliott wants to give Lucas the world in return.

At some foggy point in time they find their previous position on the sofa, limbs tangling once again, perfectly like they were made for each other.

“I’m glad this was the one,” Lucas mumbles, after a while, his face so close and his voice so soft Eliott feels his breath along his left cheek. “It’s my favourite, I don’t need big gestures or expensive dates. I just need you and me forever, that’s all.” He traces a finger along the lines of Eliott’s face, over his eyelids, his eyelashes, down his nose, across his lips. It burns almost, each movement sending jolts of energy beneath his skin, penetrating into his bloodstream and filling his veins with everlasting love for this one boy.

“Me too, it’s all I need too,” Eliott whispers back just as quietly. Because Lucas is right, they don’t need fancy restaurants, flashy gestures or orchestrated schemes; all they need is each other. And it’s so unbelievably perfect, them, here, like this — frozen in time like love tends to do, the rest of Paris bustling on in the streets below.

They move closer, lips meet softly, attentively. Eliott thanks whatever guardian angel there is out there that decided to bring Lucas and all the light that comes with him into his life. He thanks them for lazy mornings spent curled together in bed, for hours spent laughing so hard that their ribs ache, he thanks them for endless nights where they end up talking about everything that matters and everything that doesn’t.

He smiles when their lips separate. Lucas is mirroring his expression only brighter, Eliott thinks, _more beautiful_. 

Pulses best simultaneously, heartbeats matching. A pretty staccato kind of rhythm. It’s a chorus of promises; promises of love and commitment, a life spent together, a life filled with happiness and unending passion for one another. It’s a promise to live through bad days and love through the good ones, to make the most out of the little things, appreciate every moment, every minute. A promise of sticking together no matter what — _a promise of forever._

“To a life together, forever,” Eliott whispers into Lucas’ soft skin. Lucas smiles, ethereally, pressing a faint kiss to Eliott’s lips.

“Forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! my tumblr is @lumierelovers come say hi, let me know what you think❣️


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